


The Night Of the Hunter

by TimeKeepsSticking



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Death, F/M, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:53:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeKeepsSticking/pseuds/TimeKeepsSticking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eridan and Nepeta. Hunters, matesprits, friends. And then he wasn't there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Of the Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> Still really old. 
> 
> http://volatileboy.tumblr.com/post/38073756417/the-night-of-the-hunter

Sometimes you find yourself here, running your fingers over her possessions like a possessed man. Other times you find yourself avoiding this place like it’s the fucking plague of the century, affecting everyone enough to make you want to kill them. And, other times, completely avoiding all the other times, you forget you had a matesprit in the first place.

It’s not like you can blame her for leaving you. You were just trying to protect her, after all, but no. She couldn’t fucking listen and-just goddamn it. It’s enough to make you slam things against your hive walls before you break down, sobbing.

Oh, why, oh, why, oh, why did you ever think you were good enough for anyone!?

It doesn’t even fucking matter that she was a fuckin’ lowblood. The only lowblood you hate is that mustard-blooded son of a bitch, but it’s not like he even matters anymore now that he’s dead. (And the thing is that as soon as he fucking died, she came back crawling to you, sobbing over how hurt she was that he died-like it was a fucking SURPRISE. He was a goddamn shit-blood. They only live long enough to serve, if that.) Well, maybe it matters. Maybe it matters because the gods some of these dipshits believe in just suddenly looked down upon you and laughed. And then they cursed you to never have a fucking matesprit or moirail or anything that’s ever any fucking good.

Why the hell should anything good ever happen to you anyway?

But she…Oh damn, was she such a good thing. She was one of those “settle for eventually” trolls at first. And she always was until one day you fucking snapped your neck out of your nook and realized how fucking much you two were alike. The hunting, the…the….Okay, so maybe there wasn’t all that much that you had in common, but whatever. You fucking fell horns over heels for her and you don’t even know why.

She hated you at first-well, everyone hates you anyway. Even that fucking mutant you thought might tolerate you. Thank god he’s dead, too. you made sure of that.-and you didn’t like her all that much either.

Then you stumbled on to land to see some giant beast kicking her ass. You don’t even know what you were doing away from your island. Maybe it was to visit the imaginary people who like you. Who the fuck knows? And you just fired your rifle lazily. It wasn’t even some giant ass gesture. It was just you going, oh, hey, cave-girl’s in trouble, let me help.

But that shot saved her life. Somehow, someway, you saved her life.

You dragged her on to your ship when she collapsed and tended to her wounds. It was just something out of pity and all that.

Oh, and such hatred can come out of so little fucking pity.

Skipping all the bullshit that hurts too much to think about, and to be fucking blunt, you were red for each other in less than a sweep, hunting every day and introducing each other to your hobbies. It was nice at the time being, so very nice. Maybe…No, Eridan. Don’t you dare go into it. Your tears can’t spill for this lowblood. That’s undignified.

But damn, did you love her.

And that’s why you’re running your fingers over her blood-stained fucking hat. She always wore this, no matter what. You could be pailing-a luxury you weren’t allowed-and she’d still wear it. Not that you wanted to pail. That means her royal fucking highness gets more slaves. But whatever. Politics and love should never mix.

Even if it did and you both became black for each other on those nights. Even if it did and you fought until you were both covered in blood.

Too bad there’s no more blood left to shed.

And you weren’t even fighting when she left. You two were about as red as that fucking mutant’s blood. So red, but then it slowly gave way to an empty hole. About as empty as your hive seems now.

Sometimes it hits you in waves. How warm she was. How small she seemed. All of the conflicting emotions you had since then all wrapped into small balls lobbed at you like bullets.

Sometimes the night hits you in one clean shot. All the blood, all the screams, all the silence, all the tears.

She wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Sure, you were just trying to protect her, but…It wasn’t enough.

She died in your arms and it’s your fault, Ampora.

All

Your

Fault.

You tried to kill yourself after bringing the body to Equius so he could fucking mourn over his fallen cat. He hit you. A lot. You don’t even know how you survived it. You shouldn’t have. You should have died. Died and be forgotten.

He should have killed you.

Even now when you press your lips to her hat, when you nick yourself on her claws, when everything smells like her and you can’t help but sob, you think of killing yourself. Would she have wanted that? Would she have wanted you to join her? It’s driven you to stay up well past the limit you can take and contemplate the ideas over and over and over.

And you don’t know. You honestly don’t. You know you’re going to get revenge on the son of a bitch that killed her. You know you are. And if you don’t…Well, that’s a story for another fucking time.

But you will get revenge and you will join her.


End file.
